


Without You

by amycooper



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugh Culber lives again, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycooper/pseuds/amycooper
Summary: Paul decides that if he can't have Hugh here with him, he'll join him where in the mycelial network.  Then things take a surprising turn.PLEASE NOTE: While this fic does NOT have suicidal thoughts or attempts in it, Paul's attempt to upload his consciousness and the thought process that goes into that decision has some definite parallels to those concepts.





	Without You

Paul Stamets steps slowly out of the chamber trying his best to hold on to that fleeting feeling of being close to Hugh. His scent dissipating, his echoing voice fading. This is the only bright spark in this apparently endless war; that everytime he steps into the chamber and jumps, he’s feels the fullness of being close to Hugh, as if his partner’s very essences beat within the mycelial network.

And every time he steps out, he steps out empty and alone.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Startled Paul looks over to Tilly. She looks alarmed and Paul realizes he’s trumbling.

“Back to work, Cadet,” he says, his voice barely quivers as he walks quickly to his office, trying to act as if he’s not fleeing.

But as soon as the doors slide shut behind him, his body shakes erratically as the sobs escape. Paul slides to the floor. He can’t help himself; he doesn’t even try. He’s adrift in his own misery. How could he lose Hugh? Hugh was such a fact about his life, a constant: the soft voice that chided him into an actual breakfast every morning, the warm body that enveloped him every night. It was like waking up to find someone had removed the sun. It left him hallow.

He could feel his body shake against the cold floor and his ragged breath between sobs, barely able to get air in. And to what purpose? His’ life’s work had become part of a mighty war machine, his jumps from one battlefield to the next. An antithesis of everything he stood for. But oh, as devastating as it was after, he longed those jumps like a junkie longs for his next hit. For those moments where he felt close to Hugh, where he could half hear his voice in his ear, gentle and cajoling. He wants to stay. He wants to reach out and hold on and never leave.

He wants it to be like it was before. Why can’t it be like it was before.

Paul’s too caught up in his misery to hear the door swoosh open. Or the voice of surprise behind him. But a few moments later he finds himself pulled up and wrapped into a hug. Nothing like Hugh’s; this is awkward but enveloping and overly tight and his arms are smushed awkwardly in front him and against her. There's hair seemingly everywhere. But he can’t stop himself; he can’t even slow down the sobs so he melts against her, his body shaking.

Paul doesn’t know how long he stays there in that uncomfortable position, half sitting half laying on floor with the weight of his body supported against Tilly as she pats his back and briefly exchanges words with someone. But when his sobs slow down to whimpers and then die off completely, it leaves him feeling spent and numb and oddly detached. He lets Tilly and another pair of hands shift him around and moments later there's something cool and damp against his forehead. It’s pulled down a second later to cover his swollen eyes as well.

“I need you to get me a cot and some blankets,” he can hear Tilly’s voice saying. “And a pillow.”

“Wouldn’t it be best if we got him back to his own quarters?” Michael's voice.

“No. For so many reasons, no.” Tilly’s shifting him again. Moment’s later his back is resting against her. When she speaks again, it’s much quieter. “In fact, we might want to see about re-assigning him new quarters. I don’t think he’s been back there yet.”

There's a pause.

“That shouldn’t be hard. I can talk to Saru.” There's a pause again before Paul hears Michael ask, “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, I think he cried himself to sleep.” Tilly said.

“You’re good at this.”

Paul could feel the shrug, “It’s kind of like when my girlfriend cried herself to sleep after her boyfriend dumped her. I’ve had practice.”

“Oh.” Michael replies. “I’ll go get the cot.” Paul hears the doors hiss open and closed this time as Michael leaves.

Paul thinks, absently, how much Tilly’s changed since his coma. Since when does she take care of him? He can see the captain she’d be if they survive all this; if there were a future for them beyond this war. But Paul dispairs.

Tilly hums worse than Hugh ever did and thankfully it doesn’t at all resemble any aria he’s ever heard but is instead it is somewhat similar to whatever garbage they were blaring at the party during the time loop. But it she is quiet and it’s incredibly rhythmic and in a short while he is, indeed, truly asleep.

***

  
Tilly is hovering. She is worse than Hugh. At least Hugh was a competent hoverer. He had had an advanced degree in hovering and many years practice under his belt. But ever since that last jump and Paul’s subsequent breakdown afterwards, Tilly has taken to hovering around him.

It makes him nervous. Not that Tilly could possibly know what he has in mind. No, his breakdown yesterday is more than enough reason for her behavior. It’s endearing in a way; leaving her like this is one of the few regrets he has in the decision he’s made. However even though there's no way she could possible know what he intends to do, he can’t help but feel a little nervous about her hovering.

“So, lieutenant, since it’s dinner time let’s go eat dinner,” Tilly says dancing around actually ording her superior officer but, in effect ordering her superior officer. To make matters worse, Michael’s there too. Clearly intent on joining them and likely present as reinforcements if Paul were to decline the invitation. They had let him sleep in and were now ensuring that he ate.

Paul sighs. He’s no sure when they’ll jump next, but he knows the amount of time he’ll have with Tilly and Burnham is limited and, while he teeters between it being better to shun them or enjoy their company in whatever time he has left, Tilly’s wavering smile tilts him towards the latter.

“Alright,” he smiles-surprises himself with a genuine smile. Food, friends, he’ll miss them when he’s part of the mycelium network, he’s sure, but they’re a sacrifice he’s willing to make. And besides, it won’t be forever, will it? If Hugh made it there, so will they, eventually. He’ll find them and they’ll have their life stories to share. It would be something to look forward too.

So he follows them down to the mess hall, ignoring the exchanging glances between the two women at each side. He knows that this is an abrupt shift in mood from the grumpiness of earlier today or the weeks of withdrawal before, but he can’t help it. His last jump led to a decisive victory against the Klingons. The balance of war has tipped significantly in their favor. They don’t really need him anymore, not really. They’ll be okay without him. He decides, then and there, to enjoy what little time he has left with them, hovering or not.

So he watches them chatter as they lead him down to the mess hall with a genuine smile on his face. Soaking it all in to remember later.

Later. When he’s with Hugh.

“Um, sir?”

Paul blinks. “Oh.” He takes the tray from Tilly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine.”

Tilly and Burnham exchange another set of looks.

Paul sighs. “I’m just happy that the battle was won, that no one was killed, and that we might finally be able to go back to science and exploration sometime in the foreseeable future.” There. That’ll work. Okay, maybe.

He can tell neither is fully buying it, but they seem to let his explanation go unchallenged, as Tilly launches into a discussion about the food and how much she’s looking forward to some real food the next time they’re docked. Michael makes some Vulcan-esque comment comparing the nutritional levels and Paul lets their chatter wash over him, enjoying the moment for what it was. Funny how deciding to leave one plane of existence for another makes you enjoy the simple things. Even the food seemed to taste better.

The women are in the middle of debating dessert when Michael is called to the bridge and Stamets and Tilly to engineering for another jump.

“So after this, I think you better go to bed,” Tilly says as they head down the corridor. She looks nervous. Clearly she’s been debating how to broach the topic for a while. “There's an unused room on deck four. It’s not a very big roome but I was wondering if, you know, it might be closer to engineering if you’d like to-”

“Deck four? That’s not a bad idea,” Paul says. It doesn’t matter, not at all. He won’t be back after this next jump, at least his consciousness won’t be. But he doesn’t want his last minutes with Tilly to be stressful for her. He just hopes that she doesn’t blame herself for his decision. He gives her an encouraging smile.

She smiles back cautiously.

“Thanks for looking after me.”

Her eyes narrow. Shit, that might have been a bit much. Fortunately they’re arrive at the engineering lab. She’s switches back to work mode, probably planning on talking to him more after the jump. That’s okay. That would be too late.

As Tilly prepared on her end, Paul rolled up his sleeves and got comfortable in the spore chamber. He tried to breathe evenly as excitement made his stomach flutter, making him wish he’d had a lighter meal. But soon this will all end and he’d be with Hugh. Forever.

He wondered, briefly as Tilly went through the needed protocols, what they’d do with his body. How long they’d keep him in the spore chamber hoping he’d return. But he pushed those thoughts aside and when Tilly checked to see if he was ready, he gave her a nod and a smile.

And then he was jumping.

It is breathtakingly beautiful, as always. But rather than focusing on the coordinates, rather than even focusing on their location, Paul focuses on one thing and one thing alone: Hugh. Only Hugh. That horrid song that he both hates and loves fills his ears. Within moments he’s there before him, Hugh’s smile wavering and crumbling.

“Paul! What are you doing?” Hugh asks in alarm.

“Staying,” he responds, grabbing ahold of him like he’d never let go.

And just like that, Hugh’s panicking, pushing him away. “No, Paul, you’ve got your whole life-”

“With you,” Paul says. “They don’t need me anymore. Not really. But I need you. I’m staying.”

“No!”

“Yes, I’m not living the rest of my life without you!”

They struggle; Hugh trying to push Paul away. Away towards the Discovery, towards the normal, everyday plane of existance, towards life. Paul refusing to release his grip.

They stumble. They fall. And everything around Paul fades to black.


End file.
